


LDN

by witch_lit



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, picks up the wrong luggage au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:24:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch_lit/pseuds/witch_lit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec and Isabelle are moving to a new city… only, there are some complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LDN

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheShhTiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShhTiger/gifts).



The wait to get through customs took what seemed to be forever to Alec. He was still wiping the pill-induced sleep from from his eyes and his mind,  yawning, his backpack sitting at his feet as he waited for the line to move. 

Beside him, his sister was  in a similar state of fatigue. Her hair was pulled up in a messy black bun and she sported sweatpants. Under normal conditions, she would have been appalled at her own unfashionable attire, but it was the final leg of what had been an 8 hour journey from New York to London. Frankly, she wasn’t that unreasonable, not matter what Alec had teased. 

“Do you think they’re being slow on purpose?” Isabelle asked, her annoyance clear. They both wanted to fall into real beds, not an uncomfortable seat in an air-borne conductor filled with chatting voices and the smell of some idiot’s nail polish moving over the Atlantic ocean. 

“Probably not,” Alec shrugged, responding to her question.

Isabelle sighed and the line inched forward (should they consider saying ‘centimetred forwards’ now that they were going to be living in England?), the both of them kicking their carry-ons along the smooth tile floor, too exhausted to bother picking them up. 

* * *

 

“And you’re here visiting relatives?” The customs agent asked, and Alec tried not to be thrown off by the accent. 

“Going to live with them,” Alec corrected. He pushed his parents’ letter of consent forward to the guard.  He’d be 18 in less than a week, but until he was, it was necessary for him to have the papers. 

* * *

 

Alec watched the metal carousal shift, taking bags around in an oval-shaped loop. He already had his, and one of Izzy’s, but was on the prowl for her second one. He yawned, tilting back his head, wishing that Izzy hadn’t needed tow bags. She was more sentimental than he was, perhaps. 

A leopard-print bag came around the metal loop, and he pushed towards it. He quickly grabbed it, and returned to his sister, eager to meet his aunt and uncle and find a bed. One more agent to pass, then a train and a bus and they’d be there. He was carrying one is Izzy’s bags, part of a deal they’d made earlier, and as the wheels bumped across uneven pavement, pulling at his arms, he couldn’t wait to go the fuck to sleep.

* * *

 

His aunt and uncle were nice people. Not only did they allow him and Isabelle the (former) guest rooms in their flat, but they didn’t take any offense of the two siblings immediately making use of the rooms to get some shut-eye. In fact, they encouraged it, something Alec greatly appreciated. And thus went Alec’s first night in the UK. 

* * *

 

When he woke up, it was 3 o’clock.  Or, 11 AM back in New York, as his watch still recollected it. He’d have to change that, he decided, finding the nearest bathroom and relieving himself. 

He continued from the bathroom to the kitchen, where he found what would consist of his family for however long he stayed. Isabelle, his aunt and his uncle all sat around a circular green table, all clutching mugs steaming slightly from the top. 

There were two phones on the table, one of them next to Isabelle’s hand, the other near a collection of clutter at the center.

“Good afternoon, Alexander.” His uncle greeted. “There’s some hot water in the kettle if you’d like some tea, or coffee as your sister takes it.”

Alec blinked, then nodded, turning around to find the plug-in kettle. His uncle had a slight accent, not as bad as it could have been, having only lived in England for just more than all of Alec’s life, but Alec was still _horrible_ at understanding the British accent. He had less problems with the notorious Scottish accents in _Trainspotting,_ but for some reason he had to focus to understand the English tongue. He knew Isabelle didn’t share that problem, and he hoped he’d improve. 

* * *

 

The next day Alec was in Isabelle’s room as she unpacked, playing with the phone his parents had shelled out funds for. They’d need to get cases for them, but it didn’t seem like it’d be too difficult with all the stores for that kind of thing on the way to their aunt and uncle’s apartment building. 

Isabelle had only started putting her clothes into the provided drawers when she opened the second, leopard-print suitcase and gasped. 

Alec looked from his phone to her suitcase only to get an eyeful of something he did _not_ want to see. Nestles, in the haphazardly-folded clothes,  was a big, blue, _plastic cock._

Alec, his face turning completely red, met Isabelle’s eyes. They stayed like that, suspended for a minute, before Isabelle blurted, “It’s not mine!”

Alec closed his eyes, mortified. “I did not just see that.” If his sister was into that, he had no place to judge, but he hadn’t wanted to see any evidence peeking out of her suitcase. There were boundaries to their relationship that he did not want to cross. 

“Alec, I’m serious. These clothes aren’t mine, either. I think I have someone else’s suitcase. You must have grabbed the wrong one,” Isabelle claimed.  He hear her ruffling around the luggage. “Here. It’s got someone else’s name on the address card. British phone number, too.”

“Who does it belong to?” Alec asked, cheeks still enflamed. 

“One Magnus Bane. We should probably return it to him, he’ll probably be missing it.”

“I don’t want to think about what he’s missing,” Alec groaned.

Isabelle laughed. “Just return it to him, Alec.”

Alec sighed. “I’ll call him and get your bag back.”

“Thanks, Alec. Not that I don’t want a giant blue dick.”

“Izzy!” Alec admonished. He did _not_ need to know that!

“Just kidding, brother dearest,” Isabelle smiled, a bit too widely. He didn’t want to know.

* * *

 

“We’re meeting as a coffee shop in a couple of hours,” Alec said. “i’ll have to look up instructions on hot to get there, but we should make it.”

“Okay,” Isabelle said. “Does he have my bag? Or are we just stuck with his?”

“No, he’s got it. He says he looks forward to meeting someone with such a great fashion sense.”

Isabelle laughed. “You’ll have to tell him I appreciate his too. Can’t go wrong with the buckles on some of these shirts... I mean, damn.”

“Wait, you’re not coming with?” Alec asked, confused. It was _her_ bag. 

“No, I trust you to get it done. Besides, I haven’t showered since we were in America.”

“It’s a city; no one’s going to care. Besides, don’t you want to get a phone case?” Alec complained.

Isabelle shrugged. “I can do that another day. And you’re the one who fucked the luggage situation up. Besides... I really just want some alone time before I work on settling in. I need a minute to think.”

“Oh.” Alec could understand that, given their circumstances. “I can understand that,” though the last thing he’d want to do was _think_ about it. 

* * *

 

Alec was five minutes late for the meeting. He’d left early, to make up for him inevitably getting lost or turned around somewhere, and he’d needed it. He was still in the acceptable time range for appearing. 

He pushed the stranger’s bag into the shop, scanning for one just like it. He didn’t see one, though, so he anxiously went up to the counter and placed an order of dark coffee, glad he’d exchanged some currency at the JFK airport in New York. 

He didn’t know if he was being ripped off for the coffee or not, with the irregular exchange rate, but the coffee was pretty good and he’d figure it out eventually. 

He got his coffee quickly, the making of it very simple  (it was black. Like his wardrobe), and found a seat somewhat out of the way at a table meant for two. 

It was fifteen minutes before a man sat down across from him, and Alec looked up from the newspaper that had been laying on the table when he’d arrived.

The man across from him was, as predicted, very fashionable.  He had eyeliner crusting his bright green eyes, and he held himself with the air of a rather large ego, despite appearing to only be around Alec’s age. 

Alec blushed and looked away from the man to the edge of the table, where he saw two identical leopard print bags sitting adjacent to each other. “So you’re Magnus?”

“That I am, dear. Say, why didn’t you tell me you’d be this cute?” Magnus, as he claimed to be (and probably was), bent his elbow on the table between him, leaning forward as his hand dangled a steaming cup from the rim. 

“Um,” Alec avoided. “I’ve got your bag.”

“And I’ve yours. They are alarmingly similar, I must say. I’m glad you called, there was no number attached to yours. And it was labeled Isabelle Lightwood. Girlfriend?”

“Sister. Its hers,” Alec corrected. He certainly didn’t have any bras, panties, or mace in his. Maybe mace wasn’t a bad idea. 

“I see. What’s your name, blue eyes?”

“Alec. It’s, uh, than you for bringing the bag.”

“Sure thing. I wanted mine back as well,” Magnus said.Alec was thankful for the strong hint of an American accent in his voice, making it easier to understand his speech.

Alec blushed harder, thinking of the contents of the bag and what Magnus could possibly want out of it. Not a big baby blue penis, certainly... He was going to catch a fever from blushing too much. 

“Are you from around here?” Alec asked, changing the subject to try and avoid further embarrassment. He couldn’t just leave, could he?

Magnus chuckled, for some reason. “No, not really. Lived here for a bit when I was young, moved to New York and now I’m back again to try my luck.”

“New York?” Alec asked, thus beginning a conversation about the city that they both seemed to know. 

* * *

 

“So, are you just visiting, Alexander?” Magnus asked. They’d been talking for a while, and Magnus had ascertained and put to use Alec’s full name, much to the blue-eyed boy’s chagrin. 

“No, we’re moving. Isabelle and I.” Alec said, quietly. “And you too?”

“Yep, me as well. It’s been a while, though. I guess we’ll both have to get acclimated to London.”

Alec smiled. “Yeah. I came here once when I was young, but all I can remember is the river houses.”

“They’re nice, aren’t they? Actually, if I’m not mistaken, and I rarely am, the river runs close by... Want to go see if we can find it?”

“With the suitcases?” Alec laughed.

Magnus grinned, and energy suddenly thumped through Alec, despite his mild jet-lag. “Why not?”

 


End file.
